Paper cave @ LIXIL gallery
photo:Takahiro Fukumori
I first visited the town of Yusuhara in Kochi Prefecture in 1987, when I was groping for an approach to architecture that differed from the “architecture of form” that dominated Tokyo at that time. In Yusuhara, I was exposed to a variety of artisans and materials. Many of the artisans I met taught me techniques and materials previously unknown to me. My understanding of the depth and richness of architecture acquired in Yusuhara has provided the foundation for my architectural philosophy ever since.
I have collaborated with Rogier since first getting to know him during my work in Yusuhara. the Japanese paper (washi) that he makes with water from Yusuhara and other materials he himself grows is powerful and delicate, and the paper and locally grown lumber perfectly complement each other. For this exhibition, I sought to use Rogier’s washi to create a soft yet powerful space. Using washi on the ceiling and walls and creasing it through a special process have resulted in a space reminiscent of a (washi paper) cave. e aim of this exhibition is that experience in this space, which itself embodies the artisanal techniques, will encourage visitors to become aware of the depth and richness of the techniques and materials.
Kengo Kuma
When I held washi in my hands for the first time, I was struck by its soft, warm, thin yet strong, and translucent qualities, but most of all, its incredible beauty. The moment I held it higher up to let the light shine through it to see if there were any so-called “chain lines”—a kind of watermark left from the metal screen during production, often seen in western handmade paper—I could certainly recognize the horizontal and vertical lines of a screen: in the case of washi it is made of bamboo or grass. But what surprised me most were the extraordinary qualities of the transparency and the mysterious “free dancing” of the fibers, something I had not seen before. The light passing through the paper reminded me of the light passing through the stained glass windows of a church.
I realized that this kind of paper was not just a material, a surface for writing, printing and painting on, but something much more. From that moment on my questions have been “How is it that washi can be so beautiful?” and “Why do so many people experience it as gentle, warm and healing?” Later I learned that this secret is rooted in so-called satoyama. Being rooted in culture and tradition, this feeling of connectedness can provide reassurance. For this reason, it seems that washi is becoming more and more appreciated today.
I also learned that paper had been used in daily life in Japan in the past, for clothing and for interior purposes: shoji, fusuma, and all different kinds of paper—let’s say paper for every season. This is truly remarkable. Only if you think about the diffuse light coming through the shoji sliding doors and the coarser paper for kimonos and rainwear can you imagine the direct impact that washi has on people’s lives.
Water is often considered the most important ingredient for making good washi. It is used in almost every step of the process from field to paper. But I think we should not forget the fiber plants. The many different varieties of fiber plants are carefully cultivated for many years, sometimes even for many generations. I believe that our attitude toward the fields and water is crucial for the quality of the fiber, hence the paper.
To make traditional washi, we do not need any machines or chemicals. After I started making paper in the western manner with a Hollander beater, a machine for making cotton pulp, I truly understood how the traditional washi technique was connected to the local natural environment. It is almost entirely made from natural materials, like fiber, wood, bamboo or grass. Therefore a healthy natural environment and community are of utmost importance.
Eventually soil becomes paper. When Mr. Kengo Kuma asked me to collaborate in this cave-like washi project, I was happily surprised because recently I had started to research the soil of our kozo field again. It gave me a chance to meditate further on the nature of the soil from a different angle.
For this project, I used a blend of traditional washi, western cotton paper and old techniques. So this project is for me at the same time a wonderful chance to work on this large scale with these completely different fibers and techniques of different cultures. I tried to show the nature of the different fibers as well as I could, recognize their similarities and differences, and let them merge into one piece.
Please take your time to enjoy this “underground” washi world.
Rogier Uitenboogaart